


and I fall apart to my bones

by alxndrlightwoods



Series: Oh, lover be good to me [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bondage, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dom Magnus Bane, Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Sub Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alxndrlightwoods/pseuds/alxndrlightwoods
Summary: Magnus’s words from the day before ring through Alec’s head the whole time he’s at the institute. It’s a distraction, and that’snot okay— not with his job; his responsibility.“I want to have you tied to my bed,” Magnus’s voice whispers seductively in his head. “I want to watch you fall apart.”The idea alone — of Magnus wanting to watch him, bound to Magnus’s bed, spread out on Magnus’s sheets, a vibrator buried, hard and unyielding deep inside him — is enough to ensure that Alec isn’t gettinganypaperwork done today,fuck.





	and I fall apart to my bones

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have typed "Alex" instead of "Alec" by accident while tagging, and learnt that "Sub Alexander Hamilton" is a tag, so. Suffer with me, friends.
> 
> ETA: Y'all, we did not want to have to take _steps_ , but we have to, I guess. Everyone just lost the privilege of anon commenting. Come @ us on [tumblr](http://alxndrlightwoods.tumblr.com) if you wanna yell on anon, I guess.

Magnus’s words from the day before ring through Alec’s head the whole time he’s at the institute. It’s a distraction, and that’s _not okay_ — not with his job; his responsibility.

 _“I want to have you tied to my bed,”_ Magnus’s voice whispers seductively in his head. _“I want to watch you fall apart.”_

The idea alone — of Magnus wanting to watch him, bound to Magnus’s bed, spread out on Magnus’s sheets, a vibrator buried, hard and unyielding deep inside him — is enough to ensure that Alec isn’t getting _any_ paperwork done today, _fuck._

Alec sits back at his desk, letting out an exhausted groan. He rolls his head back on his neck, hearing the vertebrae click and wishes he was anywhere but here — preferably in Magnus’s loft, just… able to relax.

(He’d love to do what Magnus proposed he’s just… so tired. So, so tired.)

He leans over his desk, contemplating just… putting his head down on his arms and going straight to sleep — in fact, he’s halfway to doing that — when Izzy walks in, bright and vibrant and much, _much_ too loud for him right now.

“Alec!” She says, bright and cheerful and affectionate, and Alec loves her — he really does — but he tunes her out almost instantly. It’s. Probably something important. He knows that. He’s just… physically unable to deal with that right now.

It takes him a disturbingly long time to realise that Izzy’s stopped talking and that she’s now staring at him in concern.

“You okay, hermano?” She says, coming around the side of the desk to rest a hand on his shoulder. “You look worn out.”

“No, Izzy, I’m fine,” Alec says, shrugging her off. They both know he’s not fine but — but he needs to be fine. He’s the Head of the Insititute, he can’t _not be._

“You’re really not,” she says, and there’s amusement there now — the kind of fond amusement that comes with his denying his own state of health one too many times. It’s the same amusement that colours her voice when he gets a cold or denies injury; an amusement tinged with sadness and an almost-fragile desperation. Like… she wants something more from him. “Go _home,_ hermano. Let Magnus take care of you. We’ll be fine here.”

Alec almost wants to protest more; wants to say he can do this, but the thought of Magnus and home and the ability to _rest_ is far too tempting.

“Thanks, Izzy,” he says, accepts her offer of a fist bump with a fond smile.

“Get some rest!” She calls after him as he leaves. “The institute will still be here tomorrow!”

When he gets home — and he can call Magnus’s loft _home_ now, isn’t that a trip — he drops down onto the couch, heavy in his tiredness. Before he’s really aware of it, he’s dozed off, spread out over the leather in a position that’s _definitely_ going to be murder on his neck.

When Alec wakes up, it’s to Magnus’s hand on his face, thumb tracing across his cheekbone. “Why on earth,” he says, “would you want to sleep out here when my bed is so much more comfortable?”

Alec just groans, leaning into Magnus’s hand and letting his eyes flutter closed again. He’s less tired now, but _everything_ aches. “Mgn’s,” he slurs; shakes himself more awake and tries again. “Magnus,” he says, “you need a couch that I can sleep on.”

“Oh, darling,” Magnus replies, shifting his hands to help Alec up from the couch. “Why would I do that? That gives me less of an excuse to get you in my bed.”

That wakes Alec up. “Do you want me in your bed?” He asks, following Magnus into his bedroom. Magnus, who is leading him by the hand, looks at him like he’s utterly insane for even asking. Which, in retrospect, as Magnus shoves him down onto the bed and climbs up over him, was a rather stupid question.

“Of course I want you in my bed,” Magnus says. “How else am I going to appreciate how _stunning_ you look splayed out across my sheets?”

And okay, Alec has sort of a _thing_ for praise — a thing that Magnus knows about — so he can’t help the small noise and minuscule movement of his hips those words cause. Magnus, of course, was entirely aware what his words would do, but he still grins like he’s won the lottery and leans down to murmur more into Alec’s ear.

“You like it when I praise you, don’t you darling?” He says. “Love it, even. You look so pretty, so perfect with _every one_ of those little, unrestrained movements.”

Tracing a hand down Alec’s throat, he adds, “And those _noises._ You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart, and it will be a very good death indeed. I want to hear more of those, want to know what you sound like pushed past your limit, when pleasure and pain blends into one and every nerve is hypersensitive. I want to know what you sound like when I make you come _more than once.”_

Alec thinks his voice breaks on the moan he lets out at that, dragging his hands up to dig his fingernails into Magnus’s back. “God, fuck, _please_ Magnus,” he says. “Please!”

“Use your words,” Magnus says, amused. “What do you want, darling?”

Alec just _knows_ he goes bright red, feels his moan stutter in his throat. “Fuck, please, _Magnus—”_ he says. “I— god, I want what you said last time.”

“You’re going to have to refresh my memory a bit, darling,” Magnus says. “I’m over four hundred, my recall isn’t perfect.” He’s smirking, though, a hunger present in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He knows what Alec means.

He’s still going to make him say it. Alec can play that game.

“I want you to make me come,” he says, knows he sounds a lot more confident than he feels, “and I want to be tied to your bed with—”

Alec cuts himself off, hesitating. Magnus traces his deflect rune even as he hums quietly. “Do you want something in you, darling?” When Alec nods enthusiastically, Magnus laughs. When he continues, his voice is deep; a smooth, controlled sensuality that sends shivers across Alec’s skin. “What do you want, darling? My cock? My fingers? A toy?”

Alec’s enthusiastic moan probably answers that question for him. He’s so hard, just from Magnus’s words, that he’s actually worried he might come like this — untouched, still clothed, with Magnus’s voice alone sending waves of pleasure through his body.

“A toy then,” Magnus murmurs. He seems almost thoughtful, tapping his fingers against his chin as he stares down at Alec, splayed out beneath him. There’s an edge in his eyes, though, a glint that shows Alec that Magnus knows _exactly_ what he wants to use on him. “Well,” he says, snapping his fingers. The move doesn’t tie Alec up — not like he’d expected, at least — instead, it summons strips of cloth that drape themselves over Alec’s stomach and a bottle of lube that hits the mattress next to his hip. “I can work with that.”

There’s another snap, and suddenly Alec is shirtless; the cold air brushing against his chest as he shivers. Then Magnus leans over him, so, so warm as he drags his hands up Alec’s chest, rakes nails down his biceps and brings Alec’s arms up above his head. And as he binds Alec to the headboard, Magnus _just keeps talking._

“Look at you,” he croons, “So pliant and obedient and perfect. You just want someone to take away your options, don’t you darling?”

Alec whines; plants his feet on the mattress and cants his hips up to where Magnus shivers over him. Magnus grins in response and drops down, grinds over Alec’s still-clothed dick. Alec whines more, arches into the contact and groans at the friction. “Please, Magnus, fuck— please!”

Magnus stops, though; raises himself up on his knees to just above where Alec can reach. The friction stops entirely and Alec just about cries. He’s so so desperate for friction; for anything to take the edge off — or, even better, to get him off — and he’s not above begging.

And Magnus looks like he’s in the mood to make him beg.

So — “Fuck, Magnus, please let me come!”

Magnus hums like he’s considering it, then says, “Oh, darling, you can hold out a bit, can’t you?” He clicks his fingers again, stripping Alec of his pants — finally — then binds Alec’s legs, at both his feet and his thighs. He’s held wide open, ready for whatever Magnus decides to do to him.

And Magnus, apparently, wishes to watch him beg. Magnus has two fingers deep in his ass, carefully, precisely avoiding his prostate. He murmurs filth in Alec’s ear, periodically reminding him not to come. It’s torturous, in the best way possible.

“Magnus,” he begs, “Please!”

“All in good time, Alexander,” Magnus says, finally, _finally_ adding a third finger and _twisting_ to graze, just once, against Alec’s prostate. Alec sobs, desperate, tries to shove his hips up into Magnus’s hand, only to find himself mostly immobile. “Ah, ah, ah,” Magnus says, and there’s blue, flame-like magic twisting around the fingers of his free hand; coating his hips and holding him still. He snaps again, catches the object that obligingly lands in his hand, and pulls his fingers out of Alec — a movement that makes Alec desperate, begging and crying out and trying to arch into the magic holding him still.

“Hush, angel,” he says, smoothing a hand, still wet with lube, down Alec’s side. “Just a little longer,” he says, and Alec cries out as something _new_ enters him; something hard and unyielding and _perfect_ as it grazes past his prostate and goes _deeper._

“Fuck,” he says, feels Magnus’s fingers brush against his ass as it bottoms out. “Fuck, _please,_ Magnus— ah!” Alec cuts himself off, voice dissolving into a moan as Magnus hits something on the bottom of the toy — the _vibrator,_ because that’s what it is, fuck — and turns it on.

Alec arches against his restraints, torn between pushing into and pulling away from the stimulation. He thinks he’s saying something; begging or making the little incoherent noises — whines and gasps and garbled sounds that can’t be described — he can just make out at the edge of his senses.

“Please,” he says, or thinks he does. He doesn’t think his brain is functioning properly anymore. Everything is so good, so sensitive.

It feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin; like it fits too small, too tight over muscle and bone.

It feels like he’ll die if Magnus doesn’t let him come.

He thinks he says please again, thinks he begs more, but he’s not sure. Whatever he did, it must have worked, though, because Magnus’s hand sneaks between his spread thighs to angle the vibrator just _slightly_ differently, so it pushes directly against Alec’s prostate instead of just brushing it with every other breath.

He thinks he screams, knows he comes; shakes to pieces all over Magnus’s duvet. It’s still there, vibrating against him, and he’s so oversensitive it almost _hurts,_ but it feels so good. He’s being pushed past his limits, pushed into another building orgasm. He just came.

He _just came._

“I — Magnus, fuck,” Alec says, or thinks he does, “I can’t, Magnus, please!”

“Yes you can, darling,” Magnus says, tracing his hands down Alec’s sides. It’s a soothing move, makes him relax only to tense up again as sinking into the bed shifts the vibrator. “You can do this,” Magnus whispers, breath hot against Alec’s ear. “C’mon, angel, just one more.”

And against all odds, against everything Alec’s scrambled brain remembers that biology says, he _does._ He comes again, crying into Magnus’s pillow.

“You’re so good for me, darling, so, so good,” Magnus says, and he’s hurried now, carefully turning the vibrator off and easing it out of Alec’s body. Alec whines at the empty feeling, bringing his now-unbound hands down to grab at Magnus’s shoulders.

“Please,” he says, not entirely sure what he’s begging for, “Magnus—”

“Shh, darling,” Magnus says, voice soft, “I know.” And he does know, somehow, even when Alec doesn’t, because there’s a firm pressure against Alec’s hole and Magnus is pushing _in,_ filling him to the brim.

“Fuck!” Alec says, and it comes out as a high pitched whine. “Magnus, please, it’s so much—”

“Too much?”

“No!” Alec knows his fingernails are probably digging into Magnus’s shoulders; digging into Magnus’s _skin,_ but he can’t bring himself to care. Not with how fuzzy-full his brain is; how his skin buzzes and how Magnus’s dick sends sparks up his spine each time it grazes his prostate. He’s trying not to hit it, Alec can tell — trying to spare him the worst of the pain-pleasure of overstimulation, and Alec thinks maybe that this kind of kindness is what made him fall in love with Magnus, back at the start of them.

(But then, he knows he really fell in love almost instantly; saw Magnus and heard his lines and fell in love, almost like love at first sight or realising you’ve met your soulmate. And that’s what Magnus is, really, his soulmate, because Nephilim love once and love fiercely and Magnus is it for him.)

Magnus groans into Alec’s neck as he comes and he pauses for a minute, breathing into Alec’s neck before he carefully pulls out. “You okay, darling?” He asks, and there’s a hand in Alec’s hair, carding gently through it and rubbing his scalp.

“Mmmm,” Alec says. His brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, warm and heavy and nonfunctional. He turns his head — apparently, it’s resting in Magnus’s lap, now — into  Magnus’s stomach and nuzzles there, tired and soft and sleepy. “That was good.” He yawns, overcome with bone-deep exhaustion now that everything’s done.

“Oh, darling,” Magnus says, unbearably fond. There’s a snap, somewhere above Alec, and then a warm cloth is dragging across his stomach, carefully wiping him down. He thinks he drifts off, maybe, because the next thing he registers is Magnus at his back, the covers wrapped warm and soft around them. They’re sitting up, though, and Alec whines incoherently. Then something presses against his lips, and Magnus tells him to drink — “Just a bit, darling, there you go,” — and he does.

There’s another snap when the thing pressing against his lips is taken away, but then Magnus is lying him down, still curled up behind him and Alec forgets all about it. Magnus’s hand cards through his hair again as he presses a soft kiss against Alec’s spine. “Go to sleep, darling,” he whispers into Alec’s hair. “You’ve done so well for me.”

And Alec does. His brain is quiet, his limbs heavy, his boyfriend a warm, solid mass resting against his back and he’s safe.

So he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> I put "Alternate Universe — Soulmates" as a tag but I'm 90% sure that Nephilim fact is just canon, so, canonical soulmates!


End file.
